


Suga, March of 2012

by HDhq



Category: Block B, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Homelessness, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDhq/pseuds/HDhq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga is homeless but someday he meets Zico by accident when he was about to steal food. Zico decides that Suga would probably be a good investment for the HD. Part of the HD series, Suga's introduction. More stories to follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suga, March of 2012

He woke up facing the high ceiling of the hangar, his body stiff and cold and he was freezing although he was fortune enough to have a blanket. Others weren't that lucky. He felt his leg twitch, remembering the people they'd lost this harsh winter. Familiar faces that were simply gone now. Getting up, stuffing his blanket and improvised pillow, which was made out of worn t-shirts and the cushion of an old couch, under one of those boxes which were stacked up high, forming some kind of walls; the only kind of privacy they had.  
Spring-mornings like these were slow; the people he was living with (currently seven, although they kept coming and going each and every night) couldn't get up before noon. And honestly, why should they? Cheap wine and vodka was all it took to drown, to numb the pain and the thoughts. And the hunger.

He hadn't eaten for about a day; canned soup from the supermarket, expired and thrown away, which he kindly shared with the family next to him. They were sleeping still, the mother hugging their child to keep warm, next to the father, who was already drunk (and probably drugged), not supporting them at all. It was a pity, the girl was three years old and had to grow up like this... He crouched down next to them, trying not to disturb or wake them up, watching her dark hair, the way she was dressed in cheap clothes, way too big to be pretty or in any way childlike. Yoongi didn't grow up like this. Up until he was a teenager his birthdays had been celebrated with cakes and presents and parents that were proud. He watched the child smile in her sleep. Was she dreaming? And then he smiled, remembering his sister when she was about this age.  
Finally getting up, wanting to be that brother again, remembering the old times. He should get her something, something nice just for the little girl, maybe a cake?

 

The streets were busy, cars passing him on the way into the nicer parts of the city; fancy cars with drivers in suits of unbearable expense, watches and rings and all of that, but he didn't judge them. If he had been offered such things he would probably take it without thinking. He found what he was looking for: some kind of patisserie, serving cakes and small tarts and cookies which were shown in large display cases all around the shop. A quiet bell rang when he entered. Two people in the right corner, a cashier in the middle, no others to be seen, perfect. Knowing that they would notice him – his clothes were dirty, jacket torn on his right sleeve – but he was trying to look like he would buy something. And oh did his mouth water, looking at all of those sweets: whole chocolate cookies and brownies with vanilla frosting, strawberry cheesecakes and even small cakes – cupcakes as they were called on the small label. Another tiny cake sat on the counter right next to it, totally unguarded; no one would even notice if it was gone... It had taken months for him to practice hiding things in his clothes, but after the cake swiftly had been wrapped up in a plastic bag, hidden under his jacket it wasn't even that noticea-  
“May I help you?” Yoongi's heart skipped a beat when a young man suddenly appeared right behind him, his voice piercing his ears, making him turn around to see a brow haired man – or maybe boy? - dressed in a loose black jacket. “No, I was... just looking.”  
He didn't like his grin, not at all. “I see.” But just as he was about to squeeze away from him, trying to get to the exit, he grabbed his hand, harshly pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. “Maybe you should wipe the icing sugar from your hands.” Trying to free his hand, trying to stay collected; he didn't like the police and he wasn't that fond of having to meet them just because of this. But the hunger and his small frame weren't built to argue a lot, he just wanted to make that small girl happy, just once. “I don't know what you're talking about, please let me go.” He also couldn't stop his voice from having a pleading tone, he was shaking and his voice was trembling. “Be nice and I won't tell anybody about that cake under your jacket.” “There is no cake.”  
“Well, I don't even know you”, that man rose his voice again, looking straight into his eyes but leaning his head to where the cashier was standing, “and I really could care less, so why lie?”  
Silence.  
“Let me go...” “Say please.” No, listening to him probably was a bad choice, he didn't seem to work here or he would surely already have told the others. “Please let me go.” He didn't expect him to actually do so, but he did – after he licked the remaining icing sugar from his fingers, making a shiver creep up his spine, wondering how sick and twisted that man's mind was.

 

Hours had passed, the cake had been delivered and he was glad that she'd been happy, but something wasn't right. Yoongi couldn't seem to stay still that day, not even for half an hour; every time he did if felt as if there was someone staring at him from the corners of the street, standing behind him, ready to grab his neck. The picture of that man whose name was still unknown to him was branded into his mind, right behind his eyes, creating cutouts of him in every other face. Poor boy, someone should have told him not to go home that night, but to run away as fast as he could and maybe his life would have taken another turn.

Cold, dark air welcomed him when he jumped trough the window, which was leading into the hangar. Several small campfires had been lit like every other night, families and familiar strangers crowded, trying to warm themselves, maybe cooking up some precious food they'd found somewhere.  
Yoongi's eyes hurt due the black smoke, and it took him some time to realize someone leaning against a cement wall next to his 'sleeping site'.  
Adrenaline made his vision blur, a lack of sugar took his sense of standing upright and he collapsed. “No, no-” Yoongi vaguely remembered that the man's voice had changed when he caught him – and up to this day he'd never been to him like that again - as if he was  _concerned_ almost. “Sit down, I've got something to eat for you.” “Why should I believe you? Who are you?”  
“Well”, that tone again, cocky with a hint of sarcasm, “if I was about to drug and take you with me the others would notice, don't you think so?” That wasn't much of an answer, but he'd brought more pastries in small bags, filling the room around them with a scent of deliciousness and his resistance crumbled just like the chocolate cookie in his hands.  
“I'm Zico, by the way.”

After about an hour, maybe more, he'd decided to trust that he wasn't about to kill him at least. He had no reason to answer his questions, so why did he? Instead he should have asked why Zico hadn't told him anything about himself, or why he was so eager to get to know him. He left when the first traces of the sun lit the sky and Zico's hair almost looked orange. “You should sleep. Get some rest, you'll need it.” “Why?” Zico got up, walking towards the exit, glancing over his shoulder for the last time. “I want you to be prepared, you're walking potential.”  
  
  
He brought him to a hotel room just about two days later, an elegant one it was, consisting of a living room, bedroom and bathroom en suite. The shower that Yoongi took felt amazing, hot water was something he learned to appreciate on the streets, especially in the cold months. Zico took care of new clothes, which surprisingly fit perfectly: a leather shirt with a white top to wear underneath, dark skinny jeans and some boots.  
Zico stood next to a window, sipping on a glass of some purple liquid. “I've ordered food and a hot chocolate for you.” Although there had been two more encounters after he'd left that night, Yoongi felt as if he was back to that cocky attitude when he was glancing over his shoulder once more, pointing at covered plates and a big steaming mug. He took a sip, warming his hands on the white porcelain, tasting rich chocolate he hadn't tasted for years, not realizing how the other man got closer.  
"You look nice. Fits perfectly.” Yoongi felt a hand cup his cheek, mug taken away from him. “I want you to tell me”, another hand on his waist, pulling him closer until their bodies almost touched, “if you want me to”, Zico's lips hovering over his neck, “stop.” The younger boy shivered, although his body felt perfectly fine right now, much better than before to be exact. His lips slid over his neck, up to his mouth, kissing his lips teasingly; hands shoving him back.  
“It's such a waste that I'm going to undress you again, you look quite cute.” Yoongi didn't know if he did like him, but Zico was nice and kind and most of the time caring and he didn't look that bad either. Yoongi had never seen such a bedroom before, a massive bed that felt so soft under his back when he got pushed down. “Relax.” Which was what he did, closing his eyes while letting the other one undress him, slowly falling asleep without noticing.

He woke up some hours later, the keys to the hotel room, a business card, enough money to pay a phone booth and a handwritten note on the back of his picture when he was sleeping soundly.  
'You're cute, we'll call you Suga from now on.”

 


End file.
